Starry Starry Night
by averita
Summary: The stars hung in the air like holes in a black sheet. Adama/Roslin


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The stars hung in the air like holes in a black sheet. She thinks she should be sick of stars by now.

"Is this really it, Bill? Is this how we're going to spend all the rest of our days?" Her voice, soft and resigned, cracked the comfortable silence. Adama glanced at her, and she didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Would that be so terrible?" _He's not saying that he'd like it but they're facing a lifetime here and it needs to be addressed._

Laura shook her head sleepily. "Not this," she murmured, twitching her hand to indicate their present condition. "No. But – everything. The wondering…waiting…jumping at every flash of light…" her voice trailed off, and she was quiet for several moments. "It's not living. Not really."

There was nothing to say to that – he didn't have the convictions to dispute it. Instead he brushed her hand with his own and traced her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. Laura smiled slightly and intertwined their fingers.

The silence fell again, for what could have been minutes or maybe hours, all night, but the stars still hung above them when she finally spoke once more. "They're looking for us," she whispered, "but I don't think it matters anymore. We could live another forty, fifty, even a hundred years in peace, but the whole time..." she didn't finish, shifting slightly and nestling deeper into the blanket they were lying on.

Bill tucked an arm under his head. "Most people seem to think it's over."

"They do, don't they?" Laura mused. "Gods…" Her voice was still soft but it was colored with a tinge of frustration.

She shivered. Bill turned his head to look at her. "You cold?" he asked, concerned. Laura smiled tightly.

"A little." A short laugh escaped her lips. "I'm not quite used to the actual wind yet." She rubbed her arms, pausing as Bill hesitantly moved closer and wrapped an arm around her, and stopping completely when he ran his own hand along the exposed skin. Smiling, she glanced up at him, meeting his eyes for a moment before settling against him, somehow much warmer.

The wind sped up around them, shaking leaves and rustling Laura's wrap. "I've missed you," Bill said quietly, and then looked slightly surprised, as though not aware that he had intended to say it out loud. Laura tilted her head up.

"Gods, I've missed you too," she confessed. "Everything's so _different _now. New Caprica…" she laughed bitterly. "Hardly. They're trying to make this home, but it's not. It's never going to be." The sigh that followed this statement was almost relieved – there was no one who she trusted enough to share this particular frustration with, not when everyone was so joyful to have air on their faces and grass beneath their feet. "I wish we'd never found this planet," she continued softly. "That we could have – kept going. Found Earth."

Bill's fingers trailed higher up her arm, eventually reaching her hair and stroking it. "I know," he said.

"Although I suppose while I'm wishing I might as well wish that the Cylons had never attacked in the first place," Laura added humorlessly, anguish apparent in the lines of her face. "But there's no point in wishing, is there." It wasn't a question.

Bill didn't answer for several long seconds. "You're always welcome on Galactica," he offered, voice still several octaves lower than usual. "As a liaison or something."

Smiling softly, Laura tucked her hand under her chin. "You know that Baltar will never go for that," she said sadly. "And I can't – I have a job to do here. There are about two hundred teachers and ten thousand kids who need an education. And it's good to be teaching again. I didn't realize how much I missed it." Her voice was tapering off, getting slower and breathier, as though she was in a trance. "Just – I hate not knowing what's going on."

The unbidden plea for information wasn't lost on him. "There's nothing going on, Laura," he told her honestly. "Nothing at all. No DRADIS contacts, no missing pilots, no reported Cylon models…nothing."

A cynical smile tugged at her lips. "Somehow that doesn't comfort me much." Bill shook his head slightly.

"Me neither."

The silence around them ebbed like ocean waves; moving in and out with a comfortable repetition. Some pauses lasted longer than others, but the night was long and hazy and it all came back around. The smoke lingering in the air danced around them.

Nestling closer to Bill, Laura closed her eyes and then blinked several times, trying not to fall asleep. "Maybe we should just enjoy this," she murmured. The weed was settling over her quickly and she was warmer than she had been since arriving on New Caprica.

Bill looked down at her. "I am," he told her. A smile twitched at her lips but she shook her head slightly, both agreeing with him and telling him that wasn't what she meant.

"No," she replied, "no, I mean enjoy this – this planet." Stifling a yawn, she continued dreamily. "I mean, maybe the cylons come back, maybe they don't, but for now – right now, we've got a _break._" Her voice caught on itself – in wonder? Weariness? She wasn't quite sure.

Bill gripped her tighter, unconsciously pulling her closer to him. "I've got people who want to get off the ship; move down here," he said, and the resignation in his voice was almost crippling.

Moving her hand to lay on his chest, fingers splayed across the uniform, Laura nodded slightly and toyed with a button on his jacket. "Can you blame them?" she asked, keeping her words steady. "I mean, what are you going to do?" He was tense; she could tell that this had been eating away at him for awhile, and didn't know what to say.

"I can't just let them go," Bill muttered, and she could detect a plea. He wanted her to understand. She did. Starbuck had come down a few weeks ago, and now Tigh – soon it would be Lee. This was the only family he had left, and Laura could understand not wanting to give them up for anything. Images of Billy, first at his desk, then lying gray on a metal table, flashed through her mind unbidden.

She gave a shuddering sigh. "You're going to have to eventually." This was what they did for each other; they were voices of reason, of inevitability. "You can't keep them up there forever, Bill…not when they don't want to be there." Her fingers trailed higher, stroking his cheek, and he sighed as well.

"I know." Laura shifted, propping herself up on one elbow to meet his eyes. "I know," he repeated more quietly. They both knew he was trying to convince himself.

She gave a small, sad smile that he returned, and they both closed their eyes when she leaned down to kiss him. It was soft and sweet, like their only other kiss, but her hand on his face was hot and she was alive under the stars. When she finally broke away, several moments later, she offered another smile.

"Worry about it tomorrow," she said sleepily as Bill pulled her closer, closing his eyes again. "For now, just…" she trailed off. "You're here. With me." The last of the smoke dissipated as she curled into him, and the ground weakened below.


End file.
